


"You saved us. You saved me."

by srmiller



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 15:23:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1515377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srmiller/pseuds/srmiller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it comes down to Isabelle or Oliver Felicity is forced to shoot Isabelle with a bullet laced and filled with the Mirakuru cure, and despite the fact it is Oliver’s arrow which kills her it doesn’t stop Felicity from feeling the weight of taking someone’s life, and it’s Oliver who tries to help her come to terms with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"You saved us. You saved me."

Oliver stopped sweeping the broken glass littering the Foundry floor when he glanced at Felicity and saw she still hadn’t moved, or said a word, in the hour since they’d come back to Foundry.

She had been quiet as she’d helped patch up Oliver and Digg before the older man had left to go home, who was probably even now calling Lyla for the kind of comfort they would all need after a nightmare like tonight.

Sara, on the other hand, had refused to return to the Foundry and had barely managed to spit out a goodbye before walking away from the team. From him.

It was a goodbye he wasn’t ready to deal with just yet, which was why he was cleaning up the Foundry and keeping his mind busy, and off the death and blood and violence which he could feel on his skin as real as any scar.

But his worry for Felicity pierced through the fog; he knew she wasn’t close with her family, that she couldn’t talk to her friends about what she’d just gone through.

What she’d lived through.

So he leaned the broom against a table and walked towards her desk, “Felicity?”

If he didn’t know her he would have thought she hadn’t heard him because she didn’t look at him, didn’t even blink, but he saw her eyes flicker for less than an instant as he turned her chair to face him, crouching down so he was in her line of sight.

“Hey.”

“You know I used to feel like I was on the outside looking in, with you and Sara and Digg. I guess I’m officially part of the club now, huh? I’ve got a scar from a bullet and I’ve killed someone.”

There was a heaviness on Oliver’s chest as he listened to her, as if someone had squeezed his heart before trying to pull it out of his chest; it was the sort of pain which reminded him that even though he was terrified he’d lost his humanity on the island, he could still feel the pain he saw in her eyes as if it were his own.

“Felicity, you didn’t kill her.”

She closed her eyes, and realizing she wasn’t wearing her glasses anymore he glanced at the desk and saw them on the far side of the desk as if she’d taken them off and tossed them aside.

Discarded.

For some reason the sight made him sad.

“I would have,” she finally managed to say, her voiced choked as if each were word was a struggle. “Even if the bullet hadn’t filled with the cure, I still would have shot her. I know I hurt Tockman, but I only meant to disarm. This time-“

“You saved us,” he cut her off, squeezing her hand and realizing it was cold he picked it up and rubbed it with his calloused palms.

Isabelle Rochev, blind with revenge before the mirakuru, she’d been burning with it after, and nearly unstoppable. But Felicity had the solution, arrowheads and bullet laced and filled with the cure she’d had her friends at STAR Labs create, and she’d gone with them to face Slade and his army one last time.

Oliver hadn’t tried to stop her, this had become as much her war as it was his.

Then the fight, and everything happening so fast even now Oliver wasn’t entirely sure what happened. All he knew was at some point Digg’s gun, loaded with those special bullet, had been knocked out of his hand as Isabelle, her back to Felicity, held Oliver’s throat in a death grip.

And Felicity, brilliant and brave Felicity, had picked up the gun and aimed for Isabelle’s back.

That had been her victory.

And her ruin.

Not realizing what the bullet meant Isabelle had dropped Oliver, more irritated than furious at the gunshot, and turned to Felicity, “ _You think that’s going to stop me? I’m invincible.”_

 _“No you’re not,”_ Felicity had bit back, her anger and fury practically made her vibrate. _“You’re mortal now.”_

The arrow had gone through her heart an instant after realization struck, plunged in to her chest by Oliver’s hand.

She crumpled to the ground, Slade’s most loyal soldier was now a martyr for the cause.

No one could guess the kind of damage Isabelle would have done if she’d lived, but Felicity wasn’t looking for platitudes or pity, because even though it was his arrow which had stopped Isabelle’s heart, it had been Felcity’s bullet which killed her.

What she needed now was the truth.

“What you did was hard, but it saved us” he told her, his voice soft but certain, “It saved me.”

Her hand tightened in his and without thinking he linked his hand with hers, fingers curling and holding on tight.

“You’re going to have nightmares,” he told her. “They’re going to wake you up in a cold sweat and you’re not going to be able to go back to sleep. You’re going to be doing something which has nothing to do with Isabelle or guns and you’re suddenly going to remember what it felt like when you pulled the trigger.”

A tear slipped down her face and Oliver reached out to wipe it away, his hand resting on her cheek to give what comfort he could, “And when that happens, when you wake up in the middle of the night or freeze when you’re waiting in line at the coffee shop you’re going to call me.”

She met his eyes, surprise in them, “I don’t care what time it is, I don’t care if you’re worried about bothering me or interrupting or being a burden. You’re going to call me. Promise me.”

More tears fell, sliding down her cheek and on to his hand where they collected and dried on his skin; he’d remember those tears for the rest of his life and keep them safe in the palm of his hand.

“I promise.”

Satisfied she was telling the truth he stood up, leaning forward to press his lips to her forehead, lingering on the touch a moment longer than was necessary before tugging on her hand and pulling her out of the chair.

“Come one, I’ll take you home.”

**Author's Note:**

> [share on tumblr if you liked it!](http://awriterincowboyboots.tumblr.com/post/83300229216/you-save-us-you-saved-me)


End file.
